


this is your last chance (again)

by fensandmarshes



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: :(, ??????, Adora's self-flagellating guilt complex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Catra (She-Ra) Leaves the Horde, Deux es First-Ones-techina, F/F, Horde Adora (She-Ra), I wrote this a long time ago, Light Angst, POV Adora (She-Ra), Past Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Post-Season/Series 01 AU, Somewhat sad, Tumblr: Catradora Week 2018, dont judge me, no real plot here just sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21804661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fensandmarshes/pseuds/fensandmarshes
Summary: Maybe Adora stayed with the Horde, turned her back on She-Ra and Etheria for someone too small to matter to anything as great as destiny, feels the loss of her sword like a hollowness where a limb should be but sleeps with Catra curled against her side. Or maybe Catra followed and kept following, as the pattern always was, choosing Adora before any duty to commanding officers, and calls to her across battlefields to raise Adora's - She-Ra's - spirits with a smirk.But Adora wakes, each time, from the fog beyond the mirror.or: the one where adora catches a glimpse of some parallel universes via deux es first-ones-techina and angsts over it.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 83
Collections: Catradora Week 2018





	this is your last chance (again)

**Author's Note:**

> \- i wrote this before anything past s1 had come out, hence the somewhat outdated references to canon  
> \- 'twas my first fic beyond a merlin one-shot i wrote when i was eleven and posted to quotev (i think it's still up, which is somewhat terrifying tbh) so be gentle with me  
> \- speaking of "be gentle with me" this is my first fic on ao3 so like .... dont hurt me lol  
> \- 2020 words! happy new year!  
> \- enjoy!! <3

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bow murmurs, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back.

Adora shakes it off roughly. “ _Yes_ I’m sure,” she snaps.

“Sorry, sorry,” he placates, stepping away. “I just think we should be one hundred per cent sure –”

“It’ll be fine,” Glimmer calls from ahead, vanishing and reappearing between them before grabbing both of their hands and tugging. “Can we _please_ get going?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let's.” Adora fixes her eyes forwards, staring to the shrivelled mess of the far side of the Whispering Woods. She knows there’s a citadel somewhere beyond Bright Moon, somewhere the Horde doesn’t have a chance of reaching before them – as long as they leave _now_. It’s been calling to her. (More … nagging at her, like an itch that’s impossible to scratch because it’s itching some intangible, vaguely spiritual form that doesn’t actually _exist_ at the moment; ‘calling to her’ is a lot simpler. When Adora tried to explain the sensation to Glimmer, she’d rolled her eyes and given up after the third “I still don’t get it”.) “Let’s go.”

Adora saunters up to the front entrance to the citadel with a smug “Eternia” and a smirk. It opens for her. They all do now, whether she’s She-Ra or Adora – she supposes Light Hope did something when they had their big chat. Or maybe she’s finally accepted that She-Ra and Adora, at least for now, aren’t as separate as she thinks.

“Wipe that smile off your face,” Glimmer grumps, poking Adora in the back with the butt of her staff. Adora squeaks indignantly. Then she composes herself, staring around.

Instantly she can tell this citadel has a different function than the other ones she’s seen. The shadowy chamber arches far above her head and means business – First Ones writing _covers_ the walls, creeping like ivy across every flat surface and tangling together in clean lines and words. Glimmer flicks her wrist and glitter hums around it; Adora brushes her offer away, letting a corner of the same self-satisfied smile curl onto the edge of her lip as she calls “She-Ra” into the echoing dark and watches as the arteries and veins flicker with light.

Bow squeals and runs over when he notices an open armory, complete with arrows; Glimmer follows him in a much more dignified manner, but drops all pretense of sophistication when she drops to her knees in front of a rack of daggers. Adora wants to roll her eyes at the two of them. Strangely, she finds she can’t. _Let them have fun while they can,_ she thinks cynically; maybe it’s a little grim, but it’s applicable.

None of them got much of a chance to be children. These are their playthings.

Adora wanders over to a line of flat, horizontal crystal surfaces, set out on a series of pedestals. Each is marked in First Ones writing. She picks one at random and ghosts her fingers over it, reading the word effortlessly (‘parallels’, whatever that means). Something tugs at her navel –

_“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bow murmurs, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back._

Adora blinks her eyes open, disoriented, muddled. “What?” she forces out through the haze. Fog clouds her mind and keeps her blurry. She wrestles for a grasp on reality.

Glimmer _poof_ s in between the two of them, brow furrowed. “Adora, are you okay?” Her voice squeaks a little with worry. Normally Adora would make a jab at the almost prepubescent quality of her voice, but right now she’s too confused. Is this the present? Is having prophetic dreams a She-Ra thing now? Or can she time travel? Or, or, what if she’s travelled back in time without meaning to? –

“What’s wrong, dummy?”

Adora’s heart stops.

She knows the voice, of course. The voice that manages to be both mellifluous and rough-edged, the voice that snorts high-pitched when laughing, the voice that makes her heart drop into her stomach and sets her body alight. But it can’t be here.

Catra squats in front of her, placing a cool brown hand against her cheek. Adora feels Catra’s claws resting lightly against her cheekbone and tries to resist the goosebumps. “Adora?” Catra repeats, frowning. She tilts her head to the side and peers at Adora’s face.

Adora jolts to her feet as Catra darts away, one eyebrow cocked with an obnoxious confidence. The sword is in her hand in barely a moment and she points it at Catra, sinking into a defensive crouch; her left arm flies out to form a barrier beside her, holding Glimmer and Bow back. Or holding Catra away from them. She doesn’t know who she wants to protect from whom.

(She knows who she _should_ protect from whom. If only it were as simple as that.)

“You - stay back,” she grits out.

Catra flinches, and Adora hates that she still tracks every minute detail of Catra's body language, from her posture to her tail to her hurt, narrowed ( _deceptive_ , Adora reminds herself) eyes. “Adora?” she _whimpers._ Adora hates the sound.

“Where am I?” Adora hisses, darting closer to Catra, sliding the sword gently under Catra’s chin and lifting it to reveal her throat. Catra squirms away from the point. Adora presses it harder into her skin, not enough to draw blood but enough to indicate she’s serious.

Bow places his arm on hers, reaching in front of her, trying to get her to lower her sword. “Adora! Adora,” he soothes. “What do you mean? Let’s just put the weapons away and talk this out, okay?”

Adora doesn’t want to listen, but Bow’s ‘let’s calm down’ voice is a weakness of hers, and she obeys, body curled tense and tight as she stares warily at Catra. “I was in the citadel,” Adora says, slowing in cadence as she begins to remember. “There was a First Ones carving, it said –” her eyes narrow – “‘parallels’? What does that even mean? Then you told me not to touch it, and then I just woke up –”

“Slow down,” Bow placates. (Glimmer gives Adora a hug, awkward because of her defensive stance, and pats her hair in a way that’s probably meant to be soothing.) “You mentioned the citadel? That’s where we’re about to leave for – what do you mean, you were there?”

There’s a pause.

Bow’s eyes widen. “No way,” he mutters, quiet at first, and then louder – “No WAY,” he shouts, placing ‘incredible-fied’ (his words, not Adora’s) hands on either side of his face as his eyes almost sparkle with glee. “Are you telling me First Ones tech sent you back in time?”

“No,” Adora says flatly. Bow deflates. “Because where I come from, _Catra_ is a Force Captain.” She tries to spit the name with as much bitter vitriol in the shape of it as possible, but she’s not sure how well it comes out. “Which means that this is definitely not where I come from.”

“What the hell do you mean, _Force Captain_?” Catra says it like she’s angry, but Adora can see genuine fear in her eyes. “You know I’d never go back to the Horde.”

“Do I, Catra?” Adora snarls. “Do I really?”

“Adora, what are you talking about?” Glimmer entreats. She’s scared too. Her usual sparkle has dimmed, and she stares desaturated between Catra and Adora. “Catra wouldn’t leave us.”

“That’s what you think. We can’t trust her,” Adora asserts, glaring at Catra from behind Bow’s placating arm.

“ _Adora,_ ” Bow whispers, horrified. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I get it,” Catra snarls, sour, from where she’s retreated several steps across the Bright Moon drawbridge. “Okay? It’s never going to be enough what I do for you, because you’ll always be perfect for having left first, and I’ll always be second for _waiting for you._ But you could just say what you mean, Adora.”

Adora’s reeling, not sure what to make of any of this. But the world is swirling around her, and the fog is returning – she tries to fight it, but she crumples to the ground –

She staggers away from the crystal, stumbling to her knees and crying out. Glimmer flashes next to her instantly; Bow is there a second later, crouching beside her. “Adora, what just happened?” he says urgently, eyes fixed on hers.

“I think I was in an alternate reality,” Adora murmurs, somewhat stunned.

Bow’s eyes go huge and he begins to breathe in, but Glimmer shushes him. “What do you mean?” she inquires – “what did you see?”

“Catra,” Adora begins grimly, “was there.” It’s Glimmer’s turn to inhale sharply, and Bow’s turn to quiet her. “We were … about to go look for this citadel, I think, only she was a part of the rebellion.”

“She was fighting _against_ the Horde?” Glimmer snorts. “I don’t think so.”

“I have to know more,” Adora decides, hand tightening on her sword.

“Adoraaaaaa,” Bow warns, but she’s stumbling forwards to place her hand on the crystal again –

_Adora._

_Adora!_

_ADORA!_

She jolts awake and hits her head on the top of the metal bunk, Catra shifting against her legs before jerking out of sleep in a similar fashion. This time, Adora tries not to react too violently. She knows this isn’t real. This can’t be real.

“What is it?” Catra whispers, the words soft and low in the back of her throat. She clambers light-footed towards Adora to nudge her forehead with her own. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Adora murmurs back, dazed. The touch of Catra’s head against hers is achingly familiar, and she wants to jump away or press deeper into the touch – it feels so intimate, simultaneously how Catra and Adora should always have been and how the two of them can never be again. “I think I just had a bad dream.”

She knows, this time, that this isn’t real. She remembers the citadel and the crystal. Somehow, though, she also remembers the dream that ‘she’ (Horde-Adora; the version where she has no name but her own, no destiny but her duty) has just awoken from. Someone was calling her name. Someone was screaming for her. The sword was there, too, and now the absence of it feels like she’s lost a limb – a hollowness sinking into the two arms and two legs she has left. Why is she here? Why would any version of Adora _ever_ stay with the Horde?

And yet she knows that too, in a grudging, defeated kind of way.

(“You’re okay,” Catra whispers, and Adora knows that’s the closest she comes to saying _I love you._ )

This Adora stayed for this Catra, this Catra who still rests their foreheads together, this Catra who sleeps nestled against Adora’s legs and makes small purring sounds as she snores. This Adora turned her back on destiny, and She-Ra, and Etheria, for someone too small to matter. This Adora did what it’s always been Adora’s duty to do, since long before Light Hope and Bright Moon came to turn her into a Princess.

She’s not sure if this Adora came back (like she should have; she promised) or never left at all (like she should have; she promised) (she’s failed so many times), but she knows this Adora is wrong. Has to be wrong, surely. Etheria is more than Catra (and yet Catra is so much more than any destiny). 

Adora’s greatest regret, her single most deeply-felt loss, purrs against her side. She slips back into sleep. Her heart hurts.

She wakes. She and Bow and Glimmer head back to Bright Moon with the citadel unexplored, walking in a weary haze.

 _I have to go back,_ she knows. She hates it, but she knows. She can never let go while these futures, these presents, nestle neatly parallel to their own. She can never let go while knowing that they were once a possibility. She can never say _it’s over_ to Catra, because it will never be over while she knows how it could have been.

“One last time,” Adora murmurs contemplatively to herself, trying not to sound too fragile. “One last time.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr at hoarding-citrine if you want to say hi <3


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